As they descended deeper, the hum of her lumen sigils dragged his dragon forward in instinctive shielding behavior, her light wrapping around his curse to stabilize it even as their magic surged in response to the increased magical resonance crackling through the air between them.
His body kept moving toward her before his mind could form the intention, drawn by forces older than thought. The kiss from last night was seared into his blood, his bones, his shadowfire, his dragon—it had cracked something open that the Gloam was now prying wider, studying, and trying to use.
In this corrupted place, his curse snarled at the closeness forming between them, the growing mate bond making it restless and violent. The corruption magic in the air hissed and recoiled from their connection. But his dragon reveled in it, craved it with desperate hunger, wanting to claim Serenya fully and complete the mate bond so they could resonate naturally without artificial constraints.
He couldn’t deny it any longer. But first they needed to survive this hellscape and find out who was orchestrating the shadow-plague.
The chasm expanded and contracted around them like a monstrous lung, breathing in corrupted air and exhaling ancient hunger. Serenya sucked in a sharp breath beside him, her magic clenching around her ribs in a defensive knot that he could feel through their mate bond.
Without thinking, Vaelrik stepped into her space, and his shadowfire rose to match her fear. Her magic responded instinctively though—not overwhelming his darkness and not being consumed by it. But matching, harmonizing, working together against the Gloamrot with perfect synchronicity.
Their magical resonance ran hotter since the kiss he suddenly realized—it was sharper, more intimate, like their bodies had decided something their minds hadn’t voiced yet.The truth burned through him with crystalline clarity. He was already hers, had been since the moment she’d touched him in that Council chamber. The curse felt threatened by that certainty. The Gloamrot seethed. His dragon felt triumphant.
“What is this place?” Serenya whispered, her voice tight with controlled fear.
Before he could answer, a figure flickered into being before them—warped and half-wrong, like reality had tried to sketch a man and given up halfway through. Pale skin traced with dark veins, eyes that seemed to swallow light, and a voice that carried the weight of centuries.
“You’ve brought the final pieces to me,” the creature said, and Vaelrik felt the words slice through him like rusted blades.
He heard Serenya’s breath catch—fear and recognition tangled together in a sound that made his dragon lunge upward, shadowfire scraping his veins with violent need. He stepped between her and the thing, territorial and possessive without even realizing it.
“What final pieces?” Serenya demanded, her voice even despite the terror he could sense through their bond.
The Shadowbinder—because that’s what this creature was, Vaelrik knew it in his bones—smiled with lips that had forgotten warmth.
“You two,” he crooned, his pale eyes fixed on their joined forms. “Light forged with old mistakes. The balance I’ve been seeking for so long.”
Vaelrik stepped toward him, shadowfire clawing to break free of his control. His vision tunneled to a single point of focus: this thing that dared threaten his mate. The territorial rage building in his chest was primal and absolute.
No one threatens her. Not after she kissed him like he was something worth saving.
His dragon roared in his mind with savage satisfaction.Ours.
The earth rumbled in response to his fury, the dark void around them pulsing with malevolent energy. Serenya stumbled, and something in Vaelrik simply snapped.
The shift ripped through him—violent, immediate, and unstoppable. Bones snapped and reshaped with sounds like breaking timber. Scales erupted across his skin in waves of obsidian fury. Wings unfurled with a sound like worlds breaking, and the rope around his now-massive waist snapped like thread.
This wasn’t blind rage. This was possession, instinct, and protection his dragon would not deny. He would prove to this creature that Serenya could not be taken.
Her presence flooded their bond—fear for him, determination, and something hotter beneath it that made his dragon keen with desperate need. He answered her with devastating protectiveness, his massive form curling around her like a living fortress.
The space around them bent impossibly. Angles twisted inward. Light curled back on itself. Shadows reformed around his claws as if studying him, learning the shape of his fury.
Serenya fought the distortions with brilliant defiance, her lumen sigils flaring and collapsing in unnatural rhythms as reality tried to tear itself apart around them. He directed his shadowfire, making sure every burst curved away from her, protecting her even as the curse wanted to go feral.
The curse fed on his emotions, and this place heightened them, used any weakness against him to fuel his rage. And through it all, the bond pulsed with echoes of their kiss, grounding him when nothing else could.
But as the Shadowbinder watched their display with calculating interest instead of fear, a cold realization crashed over Vaelrik.
This creature had wanted his dragon to break free. Wanted her to stabilize him with her lumen sigils. This wasn’t combat.
It was measurement. Calibration. Research.
Onthem.
A wave of Gloamrot slammed into his flank like a living thing, corruption magic burning through his scales. He roared, staggering under the assault.
Through their bond—Serenya screamed his name. Not aloud. Inside him. Terror. Fear for him.
